Disclaimer: this is a review, and as such it contains spoilers of the whole series. Please proceed to read at your own risk if you still plan on watching this show or if you haven’t finished it yet. You have been warned.
One Night/Morning
(ワンナイト・モーニング / Wan Naito・Mo-ningu)
MyDramaList rating: 8.0/10
Hello everybody and welcome to a new review! This series was so short and sweet that I went through it very fast, and I even took the time to watch it a second time to take specific notes. Can I just say, I am on an absolute ROLL when it comes to wholesome shows at the moment, and I am loving it. This was another hidden gem that managed to touch and surprise me in a lot of ways. I don’t even remember putting it on my list but I’m glad I did, because it’s incredibly charming and very different from any other Japanese show I’ve watched so far. Because of the unique nature of each episode, I initially debated pulling another SF8 reviewing style, but due to the short length of the episodes I decided to make it one big review, in which I’ll discuss all the episodes one by one and give my thoughts on the series as a whole. I’m very excited to share my views on this, so let’s get to it!
One Night/Morning is a WOWOW Japanese anthology series consisting of eight episodes of about twenty-five minutes each. It’s based on a manga series with the same title by Okuyama Kenichi. The full show with good English subtitles can be found on this Polish website.
Each episode focusses on two main characters, a male and a female, that end up sharing a meal and spending a night and a morning together through a wide variety of circumstances. Whether they are romantic/sexual partners, childhood friends, classmates, colleagues or complete strangers, depending on the situation and how the night unfolds, in the morning each character goes home with a new perspective. Each and every interaction leads to some kind of healing and/or valuable life lesson. Apart from that, every episode features (and has as its title) a specific food that plays a central role in the story, and a color scheme that is reflected in the characters’ clothing, environments and the lighting. The combination of the food metaphors, cinematographic elements and the non-diegetic inserts of the characters’ mental state creates a very unique watching experience. While each episode basically stands on its own, there are two episodes that share correlating characters, and the only recurring thing throughout the whole anthology is a convenience store and its enigmatic clerk, whose own episode (the final one) ties all the previous ones together in a very wholesome way.
For this review, I would like to go over each and every episode as the standalone story that it is, give my character analyses and point out everything that stood out to me, also in terms of the food and color elements and the inserts relating to the characters’ mental state. After that, I’ll make some general comments and talk about the series as a whole before concluding.
1. Umeboshi Onigiri, or ‘Pickled Plum Riceball’
Color code: Green
The first episode is about a reunion between two former classmates, Murata Ryota (played by Uesugi Shuhei) and Manatsuki Chiharu (played by Imou Haruka). We are first introduced to Murata, who is struggling to find employment and receives the umpteenth rejection for a job interview. It is in this state that he attends a high school reunion where everyone tells him he hasn’t changed one bit – he’s still as invisible and unmemorable as ever. Very motivating. Contrastingly, the room immediately lights up when Chiharu comes in; she was very popular back in the day and is immediately welcomed back enthusiastically. However, this quickly shifts as people start gossipping about how ‘dried up’ she’s become after her recent divorce. It doesn’t take long before Chiharu decides to leave, and Murata ends up going with her.
Although they’re former classmates, their encounter starts out completely one-sided: Murata has always had a crush on Chiharu, but she doesn’t remember him. While Murata has basically been standing still in terms of gaining social/romantic experience, Chiharu has been through a lot, and just got out of a divorce. She never managed to find someone who could accept her for her quirks, the main one being her aptitude for making a mean pickled plum riceball. It’s an uncommon flavor and not liked by many, and she’s always been criticized or made fun of by her partners for liking them. Murata, on the other hand, loves them. One thing he can’t forget about is how back in high school, he spotted Chiharu throwing away her handmade riceballs after her boyfriend made fun of them, and secretly ate them himself.
The two end up at Chiharu’s house, where they reminisce about high school and eventually arrive at the main topic: their insecurities. During their conversation, they both validate each other in their own uniqueness. I loved how they kept twisting each other’s personal criticisms to something positive. For example, when Murata apologizes for being so unmemorable when Chiharu doesn’t recognize him, she tells him that the person who doesn’t remember is always at fault, and he later also throws this back at her. Another example was that, when Chiharu mentioned she might’ve been thrown away by men because she threw away those onigiri, even though they took so much effort to make, Murata twists it to saying that those onigiri may have actually filtered out the unworthy men for her instead, and he repeats her preparation process to indicate the process she went through as a person to ‘evolve’, rather than ‘deteriorate’.
I thought her throwing away the riceballs might’ve also symbolized her tendency to throw away ‘her true self’ in order to adapt to other people’s preferences – this also came back in her habit of awkwardly complying whenever someone rejected her or made her feel like she was acting weird. In the end, Murata uses the umeboshi as a metaphor for the both of them: while he always stayed a plum, her life experiences made her transform into a pickled one.
Admittedly, I was a bit disappointed by Chiharu’s sudden request to sleep together. They were having such a wholesome moment and I didn’t find it necessary to turn it into a one-night stand. She had just praised him for being so respectful in the way he had continued his love for her from a distance rather than force himself on her, so it felt a bit odd that she suddenly thought it was alright to give him full-body access to her, when she basically just met him. Still, they both consented to it, so I guess it was fine. I liked that Murata at least got the chance to confess to her, and the way he accepted her rejection the next morning was a big green flag. His encounter with her (with or without the sex) gave him new determination to work on himself and strive to gain more life experience so as to become a pickled plum himself, as well. I also appreciated that Chiharu rejected him because it didn’t feel right to her to accept him as a rebound when she was feeling lonely – he deserved better than that.
To me, this story felt like a bittersweet (or should I say, soursweet👀) ‘right person, wrong timing’ kind of love story. Seeing how well and naturally they clicked as adults, it made me feel sad that they didn’t get to know each other earlier – the imagined flashback of them as a high school couple, with Murata happily eating her handmade onigiris was really sweet -, but having this encounter as adults with their respective stuff to work through may have been better, as it resulted in something very precious and wholesome for the both of them that they needed at that specific moment and wouldn’t have found through anyone else otherwise. I was surprised how, through such a short story, we still got two incredibly well fleshed out characters that went through significant personal developments and found closure that helped them see things in a new light, through one overnight encounter.
There were a couple of symbolisms that I thought were very subtle yet powerful, at least if I interpreted them correctly. In the non-diegetic inserts that reflected their mental state, Murata and Chiharu are both standing in a large field with very tall plants. Whereas Murata stands in the dark, Chiharu is illuminated by sunlight. I thought this might’ve alluded to the fact that Murata never stood out while she did, and he later also mentions that she was always ‘the only light in his life’. Throughout the story, Murata makes his way to Chiharu through the plants, towards her light. He finds her and hugs her. The next morning, Murata is back in his initial spot in the field, but now the sun shines on him as well – we see him blink against the unfamiliar light.
Even though these inserts were only short in-between sequences that didn’t last for more than a few seconds, I just loved how profound they were. The way they managed to capture the transformation in these characters through such simple imagery was incredible. Apart from the light and dark distinction between Chiharu and Murata, which I think both symbolized their personalities and their difference in life experience, I also loved the contrastive aspect that Murata was the one making his way to Chiharu. He was the one taking action, grabbing the opportunity to confess his love to her, even after so long. Even though Chiharu was the one who ‘evolved’ into a pickled plum in real life, in the inserts she was the one standing still while Murata made his way to her and validated her growth rather than criticize her for her ‘failures’.
Another thing I took note of was the choice to never mention Murata’s first name in the episode. I only found out he’s apparently named Ryota through MDL, but he’s only ever mentioned by his last name, while Chiharu is called by her full name. I thought this might have also been a deliberate choice, since it adds to Murata’s ‘invisibility’ and the fact nobody really noticed him. Adding to that, ‘Murata’ is a very common last name in Japanese, so that might have also contributed to the mundanity of his existence.
I thought this first episode was really powerful and immediately set the tone for the anthology. The characters were introduced and explored thoroughly in a pretty short time, to the point where it actually felt like I got to know them. Their conversation at Chiharu’s house was incredibly wholesome and I loved how well they clicked and automatically kept validating each other. I also thought the way they used the pickled plum as a metaphor to refer to both of their personalities and mental states was SO clever. They do that in every episode, but this was probably one of my favorite examples, because it was so specific. It also immediately made me want to try an umeboshi onigiri myself – I saw one when I went to buy some the other day, but I still ended up going with the basic fave tuna-mayo. I wonder what that says about me, lol. But yeah, I loved how they utilized this specific ‘acquired taste’ piece of food to connect the main characters, and made it part of the narrative.
In terms of the color scheme, I thought it was cool to see how they differentiated between various shades of green to distinguish between the characters as well. Murata starts out with very dark green, both in his clothing and the lighting, but in the morning he’s enveloped in Chiharu’s lighter shade, and everything around him seems lighter as well, which probably reflects his newfound determination.
I feel like this was characteristic for every episode in this anthology: every character starts out dark or troubled, and comes out lighter and less worried at the end. I really loved how they managed to reflect this in the colors and the lighting. All in all, great writing and use of practical tools and accessories to get across a simple yet very powerful message. I really liked this episode.
2. Honey Toast
Color code: Yellow
The second episode focusses on two people who meet through a dating app: Sutou Michitoshi (played by Mochizuki Ayumu) and Lily (played by Ito Marika). We first see Sutou pass by the convenience store to buy toast before his blind date, which quickly becomes a topic of conversation once he actually meets up with his match. Through this, we learn that Sutou uses the nickname ‘Toast’ since it’s close to the pronunciation of his last name, and the fact that he basically always eats toast for breakfast, despite not even being that passionate about it. Lily meets him halfway by mentioning she loves honey toast. The date quickly takes a spicy turn when Lily suddenly announces she’s in the mood for something sexy, and they end up going to a love hotel. Before they can really get things going, they are interrupted by an aggressive guy who claims Lily is his girlfriend, but then kicks her down and leaves her on the street when she tries to beg him for forgiveness. Seeing her almost get taken away by another drunk guy, Sutou brings her to his house, where they have an openhearted talk.
I have to admit this story didn’t grab me as much as Umeboshi Onigiri did, probably because it went through the character introductions very fast and offered less buildup before taking a sexual turn (my demisexual ass just can’t, lol). Still, the conversation between them established the darker and deeper layers within the both of them very clearly, and after rewatching the episode I also caught a couple of things I initially missed.
Sutou sees himself as the kind of person nobody really loves or hates, just like how he neither loves nor hates toast. The only reason he went on a dating app was because he’d made up his mind to at least lose his virginity before graduating, even though his intention leaned more towards ‘getting it over with’ than to actually finding a partner. He’s always restricted himself in caring too much about anything, and took to staying neutral in everything throughout his life.
I appreciated that, despite looking like a typical spineless babyfaced boy, Sutou actually had some proper backbone and didn’t just go along with whatever Lily suggested. It was refreshing to see him stand up to her and offer advice, rather than just bend over backwards to help her out. Additionally, I also liked that his neutral stance didn’t make him heartless: this guy actually cried at hearing Lily’s story, and made a genuine (albeit awkward) suggestion to look for other ways she could try to make herself feel needed and useful. I loved how his random example of ‘try fundraising’ actually inspired her to join a donation campaign at the end, that was really sweet.
In contrast to Sutou, who has always painstakingly taken control of his own life, Lily is basically alone in the world. She doesn’t have any family or real friends to fall back on, which has led her to allow all sorts of bad people into her life that have kept taking advantage of her. Through her life, Lily learned that the only thing she could use to please people was her body, and this has escalated to the point that it’s become an actual coping mechanism for her. Whenever she upsets someone, she offers to have sex with them to make them feel better, apologize, or show gratitude, because that’s the only thing she knows how to do. I thought that was pretty sad and made her character very complex. As cute and confident as she presents herself during the blind date, she literally comes apart during her one-on-one conversation with Sutou at his house, because nobody ever made her feel respected through rejecting having sex with her before.
Despite having a selfish reason for wanting to have sex himself, Sutou is mature enough to realize that this isn’t the proper way to go, just like it isn’t right for Lily to offer to sleep with him just to express her gratitude. I loved how he reprimanded her methods, but still validated her wish to want to make others happy as well as her desire to feel wanted and desired. Seriously, this was another really well written dialogue, as it offered depth to the characters and made them find some sort of acceptance within themselves that inspired them to become better people. I also really loved how the next morning, Lily referred back to what Sutou said about how he was as neutral as toast, and gave it a new twist by saying that she loved toast because it was an essential ingredient to make honey toast, and it wasn’t just about the honey for her.
Despite Sutou offering Lily a place to stay for as long as necessary, the episode has a slightly dissatisfying ending in my opinion. While they’re enjoying a nice honey toast together, Lily receives another call from Maa-kun, and leaves to take it in private, after which she doesn’t return. Then there’s a time jump to after Sutou’s graduation. We see him eat honey toast for breakfast and have a call with his boss or colleague, when he suddenly spots Lily on the street, participating in a donation campaign. She’s dyed her hair back to dark and is openly referred to by her real name, Shizuko, by her peers. Seeing that she’s turned over a new leaf, even after disappearing on him, puts a smile on Sutou’s face.
Even though this in itself was a nice ending, I kind of felt bummed out that they couldn’t have stayed together, even if things stayed platonic between them. When she leaves to take Maa-kun’s call, we’re led to believe that maybe she’s not able to leave him behind after all, but then when we see her transformed at the end, it suggests that she decided to take care of her own stuff instead of relying on Sutou’s hospitality. I guess that’s a good thing, but it was kind of sad that she just disappeared without informing him of that, like how Chiharu in Umeboshi Onigiri at least gave her reason for rejecting Murata. Still, I thought this was a very interesting and unique story, completely different from the first one, that introduced two innately different-natured people that still managed to help each other. Lily took Sutou’s advice to make herself useful in a different way, and Sutou kept the honey she introduced to his bland ‘toast’ life. Again, love the metaphors.
My only critical remark on this episode would be that I felt like it kept a couple of things a bit open. For example, it’s not even explicitly clarified how Sutou and Lily meet, although it’s suggested that it’s a dating app because they both mention something along the lines of ‘not having tried meeting up with people through this method before’. However, when Maa-kun was introduced it made me wonder how Lily ended up registering for a dating app when she was apparently in such a heavy-reliant relationship with someone. Was she trying to get away from him or meet new people she could ‘please’? The lack of context from the start kind of contributed to the fact that I wasn’t able to get into the story as quickly as with the first one, even though the later developments did partially make up for that.
The non-diegetic inserts reflecting the main characters’ mental states in this episode showed both Sutou and Lily in the water. We first only see Sutou, who manages to swim to the surface once he’s about to lose his virginity with Lily. After that, he floats on his back just above the surface for a while. Similar to Murata, this may symbolize that he’s been ‘dormant’ for a while, staying neutral and uninvolved.
As for Lily, we initially see an image of her standing fully clothed under a running shower, but then we see her in the same water mass as Sutou, even further down than him. At some point, Sutou dives down and brings her to the surface as well. I thought showing them both underwater for different reasons was a powerful metaphor, as it showed that they were both ‘drowning’ to suppress their respective self-worth, in a way.
In terms of color scheme, while yellow seemed a very fitting choice as it also reflected the color of honey, I still liked that they used it in different shades as well. In Japanese, ‘the taste of honey’ (hachimitsu no aji) alludes to something seductive or sexual, and I think this can also be linked to Lily’s tendency of wanting to please people with her body. All in all, I really think you can say that Lily was the honey to Sutou’s toast, in more than one way. Here again, I really loved the distinction between the shades of yellow depending on the situation, how it’s all dimmed and tense in the love hotel but then turns bright and light the morning after. In general, things always feel lighter in the morning, so I think this was also a very apt depiction of that.
While watching it for the second time definitely helped me understand the characters a bit better, I still felt like it was a bit more rushed and had a little less buildup than the first episode. Nonetheless, the characters didn’t feel one-dimensional and I respected that they decided to go their separate ways and work of themselves by themselves, rather than rely on other people too much. Learning how to depend on yourself is just as important as learning how to rely on others, after all.
3. Somen, or ‘Fine White Noodles’
Color code: Light pink
This episode focusses on two colleagues, Onigashima Moe (played by Asakawa Nana) and Momokawa Wataru (played by Yanagi Shuntaro). While they work for the same company, these two are initially on complete opposite sides of society. Moe initially comes across as quite shallow: she only cares about money and immediately judges Momokawa for having the same thing for lunch for an entire week, as it screams ‘shabby’ to her. Despite this judgemental tendency, she’s very straightforward about her preferences. I loved how she slapped back at that guy she went on a blind date with when she saw a text of his wife come in. The way she immediately went: “I don’t do affairs, byeee” and also didn’t let him gaslight her for only dating him for his money, was peak. That “your wife and child are waiting for those diapers” was really satisfying. The fact that this was followed up by an insert of her screaming into a void made it even better, because it immediately showed that there was more to her, and it did hurt her in some way.
Getting out of that failed date, Moe is approached by Momokawa, who had been waiting for a chance to catch her after work, and she ends up sleeping over at his place after getting drunk. When she wakes up the next morning, she’s greeted by Momokawa’s large and lively family and treated to a breakfast of leftover somen his family members sent over, which clears the question of why he had been eating this for lunch so many times.
Honestly, as shallow as she acted at first, I really liked Moe. I loved her quirky expressions and firm boundaries when it came to dating and settling down. She was a very refreshing character, and I appreciated that they gave a proper explanation for her money-dependent behavior as well, although I did feel like it had some contradictions to it. Her family became poor when she was in high school, after her father made a wrong investment bet, and this ended up tearing her family apart, also because Moe became so ashamed of them that she stopped coming home. With his loss of money, her father also lost his kindness and reliability, which made her believe that these characteristics were all negligible in a partner – everything would disappear once they’d run out of money, anyway. Was that why she just gave up on the goodness of people and only started looking at money, without feelings behind it? Because it would hurt less if only the money disappeared, and not the love as well? That might’ve been it, but I still felt a bit of ambiguity in her intentions. What I did like was the way she immediately came undone at the Momokawa breakfast table. She realized how judgemental she’d been, and seeing his family eating together triggered her own lack of a warm family safety net. After breakfast, Moe and Momokawa take a walk together and have another very wholesome conversation, after which Momokawa proposes to her with the promise of remaining as kind and reliable as he can, even without much money.
Momokawa comes from a big family and has four siblings who are about ten years younger than him. This age difference jumped out to me from the get-go, so it was nice to get an explanation for it; we love attention to detail👌🏻. He grew up as an only child until the age of ten, around which time his father got sick. For some reason, that’s when his parents suddenly became desperate to conceive again, which resulted in four much younger siblings, even though his father passed away not long after the last one was born. In hindsight, Momokawa felt like his dad wanted to leave enough ‘allies’ for his mom, to which Moe adds “and for you, probably”.
I loved how Moe and Momokawa actually had a lot in common, but ended up in opposite circumstances: Moe was ashamed of her family’s poverty and did everything she could to separate herself from it, to the point of pretending she was above it by only seeking out rich guys. Momokawa grew up in a poor family which was very warm and lively, and he never even had to be selective of who he liked: he instinctively fell for Moe and simply couldn’t picture anyone else to be with.
This was a very sweet love story, and the first in which the two main characters actually got together. I loved the buildup in Moe’s character development, as well. You could literally see her change perspective as she realized Momokawa’s family situation, regretting how she called him ‘shabby’ for eating the same thing for multiple days in a row. It was cute that she ended up eating the somen he gave her during lunch, because that also seemed to indicate her making peace with her family background.
I already mentioned it before, but the attention to detail in this episode really stood out to me. They made even the subtlest aspects relevant, like how the sight of Momokawa’s brothers picking green onions from their balcony reminded Moe of how her family used to do this, and how ashamed she was of it because it emphasized how poor they were. There were a lot of powerful parallels that were referred back to, which only contributed to the consistency of the story.
Just like with Umeboshi Onigiri, I really liked how well this episode fleshed out the main characters in such a short time, and Moe went through such a natural transition throughout the story.
This was also the first episode that genuinely made me laugh out loud, mostly because of Moe’s quirkiness. I loved her initial response to Momokawa’s proposal, and how she then continued to make qualms about taking each other’s name, lol. Her whole thing about not wanting to become Momokawa Moe because it had too many ‘mo’s” in it, and how she joked about him becoming Onigashima Wataru because that sounded like some sort of epic adventure story, lol. I really liked how her character was written, because it made me like her even when she acting shallow. What mattered was that she was immediately capable of reflecting and changing perspective when it came to it.
While the somen was initially introduced as a tool to remind Moe of her family’s poverty, I loved that it got another meaning as well. Apparently, it’s typical for somen to include one pink noodle, which Momokawa’s youngest sister ends up giving to Moe. Later, during his proposal, Momokawa even compares Moe to this pink noodle directly, in terms of how he was instinctively drawn to her in the same way the pink noodle stands out among the white somen. Even after only spending one night and morning together, this encounter managed to turn Moe’s long-going habit of prioritizing money over feelings upside down, and she immediately acknowledges Momokawa for his unmistakable sincerity.
The non-diegetic inserts in this episode were also very fitting. Moe and Momokawa are standing in the same field, but are initially not in close range to each other. At some point, we see Momokawa listening, one hand at his ear, while Moe is screaming and frantically searching for her phone, as if he literally put out a call to her and she hastily struggles to answer it. In the end, their call connects and Moe is seen approaching Momokawa, as if they finally managed to find each other. Again, I thought this was very apt since it turns out they had always been on the same wavelength, and Momokawa had been trying to ‘reach’ Moe for a while. She just had to be alarmed to the fact that the person she’d been looking for had actually been standing in the same field as her all along.
The color scheme for this episode was light pink, and besides the usual reflections of that in the environments I also thought it was nice that it came back in more personal ways, like the pink noodle and even Momokawa’s name (‘momo’ means ‘peach’). Same as with the previous episodes, there’s a clear distinction in how the color shades change from darker to lighter. For example, when we see Momokawa eat in the beginning, his environment is kind of dimmed, but when they’re at the breakfast table together and when Moe eats somen herself in the end, the space they’re in is much brighter. While this might be a recurring transition, I still like how it reflects the shift in their situations and mindsets.
I honestly think this might be my favorite episode of the anthology. I loved the buildup between the characters and the natural change in Moe’s attitude. As a story, I also appreciated that it didn’t go as deep and psychological as the previous ones. It created a nice variation within the episodes.
One last thing that jumped out to me in this episode was that it introduced a side character, Moe’s colleague Mitsume. Although the other episodes also showed different people besides the main leads, it immediately felt different with this person because she was featured far more distinctively and given way more screentime, even within this short story. Not gonna lie, I was pretty proud of myself for noticing this, especially when it turned out I was right in feeling like she was ‘special’ in some way.
Apart from this, I actually felt like I was on a role intuitively in general, since I’d gotten two names right before they were even revealed. This is a very random detail but I still wanted to mention it, because it made me feel so aligned with the series as I was watching it. During Honey Toast, I kept thinking Sutou looked like an ‘Ayumu’, and this turned out to be the actor’s name. When Moe asked Momokawa what his first name was, I instictively said: “Wataru”, which turned out to be the case. Call me the name whisperer, if you will.
4. Gyudon, or ‘Beef Bowl’
Color code: Orange
This episode focusses on two former schoolmates, Hatamoto Tamako (played by Kawai Yumi) and Ushio Teppei (played by Fujiwara Itsuki). We first meet Tamako, a very quiet girl who’s quite literally at a standstill in her life. Besides being shy and soft-spoken, she is unable to escape the influence of her mother, even as a young adult. Her mother refuses to let her go to a distant university and live on her own, so Tamako is forced to stay in the same place. Apart from these external circumstances, she also has something paralyzing her from within: the guilt of not being able to stand up for someone back in high school.
Ushio is the epitome of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. In every single way, he is portrayed as a misunderstood delinquent – one look at him and people decide he’s up to no good. When he’s having lunch in a spot with a lot of trash, people assume he’s responsible for the littering. When he brings someone their wallet when they accidentally forget or drop it, people assume he stole it. When he buys condoms at a convenience store, people assume he has shady intentions.
Tamako first meets Ushio in high school, when she spots him eating a bowl of gyudon next to a dried-up flower bed. Some time later, when she’s watering said flower bed, he comes to the same spot again to eat his gyudon. He clears away the cigarette buds and silently appreciates her for watering the plants. Seeing this side of him, Tamako immediately clocks that he is a kind person and stops judging him by his cover. Just when she starts warming up to him, she spots him being dragged away by a teacher who accuses him of littering around the flower bed. While knowing he didn’t do it, Tamako isn’t able to speak up for him, and doesn’t see him again. Another few years later, the two meet again on a night when Tamako attempts to run away from home.
I thought this was another really refreshing episode. First of all, this was the first story without any intentional physical intimacy between the two characters. While they did spend a night together at a book café and Ushio ends up hugging her in his sleep, their relationship throughout stays purely platonic. Even if there is a slight suggestion that there might be some feelings between them – and Tamako is definitely drawn to Ushio after realizing his kindness – the episode ends with them both moving on with their lives while staying in touch through written letters.
The fact that this episode was pretty much solely about Tamako dealing with her guilt of not being able to stand up for a friend was very powerful, and it was all the more satisfying when she ultimately managed to make up for it. Even when Ushio already established that he didn’t blame her for anything, it just felt right when she spoke up for him in the end.
I really liked their ‘Yankee-kun versus Megane-chan’ dynamic, the tough looking guy and the shy girl who recognized his good intentions through his exterior. As such, I was happy that it stayed pure and platonic, and that it focussed on them finding closure for their different sentiments surrounding that specific situation in the past, rather than on bringing them together as a couple.
It was this theme of different perspectives that set this episode apart for me. We mainly follow Tamako’s perspective, which pulls us into her world of thought that she failed Ushio. Tamako is convinced that he must have always resented her for it, and keeps referring back to that when they meet again. Contrastingly, Ushio reveals that he did actually hear her mumbled attempts to speak out as he was being dragged away. He knew she tried, and he never blamed her for anything. While Tamako spent all those years wanting to apologize to him, he always wanted to find an opportunity to thank her. When he coincidentally meets her again as she attempts to run away from home, he expresses his gratitude to her by finding her a place to spend the night. He only stays over because he accidentally falls asleep, and then treats her to a meal the next morning. He even reveals she inspired him to take on his current job: watering the plants at the local park. The magic of different perspectives – chef’s kiss.👌🏻
The gyudon in this story didn’t just serve as Ushio’s favorite meal, either. He eventually uses it as a metaphor to comfort Tamako as well. When she expresses that she’s never been able to change throughout the years, he comments that he would never want gyudon to change flavor, because he liked it the way it was. I also really loved how he answered to her question of how to change by putting pickled ginger on top of her gyudon, to show that she could stay the same and just add something on top to ‘power up’.
As a matter of fact, an opportunity to do so presents itself almost directly after that, when Ushio is falsely accused of stealing someone’s wallet. Tamako finds it in her to ‘power up’ and stand up for him, finally freeing herself from her guilt. She also decides to go home and have a proper talk with her mom instead of running away.
I loved how Ushio managed to inspire her through such a simple message, and how it was revealed that she had inspired him way earlier by watering that flower bed at school. Ultimately, Tamako gets her mother’s permission to study horticulture, and Ushio continues his job as a gardener. I loved the concept of these two polar opposite characters that saw through each other’s exteriors and ended up taking inspiration from each other. It was such a sweet and wholesome little story.
The non-diegetic inserts for this episode were, again, very fitting. After failing to stand up for Ushio, Tamako is at a literal standstill in front of the flower bed and isn’t able to move even when it starts raining on her. Throughout the episode, Ushio approaches her with an umbrella, and when he offers it to her, she responds by holding it over his head as well, before ultimately hugging him. The metaphors and imagery this series uses to show how simple gestures are able to save another person are so incredibly powerful.
In terms of the color scheme, apart from the distinction in dark and light I also appreciated how the show literally brought Tamako and Ushio closer together. The air around them literally seems to clear as they reconnect and exchange contacts, and I thought that was a very neat additional detail.
I think this may be my favorite ‘platonic’ episode. I just loved Tamako and Ushio’s dynamic and friendship, and I appreciated that the story focussed on clearing up a past misunderstanding rather than forcing them together physically. Of course, it would be super cute to see them become a couple at some point, but it was nice to see them start from scratch by clearing the air and initiating friendly contact first.
5. Tamago Sando, or “Egg Sandwich”
Color code: Teal
This episode focusses on two high school students, Miyagawa Haruto (played by Maeda Oshiro) and Iwamoto Kana (played by Ikeda Akana). Despite being in different classes, these two share one fun little weekly interaction: every Wednesday, they race each other to get the last special egg sandwich from the lunch lady. Kana always wins because she’s super athletic, and they always share a cute little moment when Miyagawa has to admit his defeat. In truth, Miyagawa isn’t even doing it for the sandwich: he has a crush on Kana and enjoys getting to see her like this every week. I thought this was pretty clear from the first time we see them do this; when his friends mention he must really like those egg sandwiches for him to race Iwamoto to the top of the stairs each time, Miyagawa kind of shrugs: “Not really, I just liking doing it” while continuing to watch Kana practice.
Kana is part of the softball team, and typically sports (pun intended) a very practical outfit at school. She always wears jerseys under her skirt and has her hair tied into a ponytail. Despite her reputation, she completely loses her confidence when her team loses a game at some point. It’s never really clarified what happened, but I could only guess that the missed chance or loss was somehow related to Kana’s performance, because it hits her so hard that she quits the team. Although Miyagawa manages to comfort her by buying her an egg sandwich from the convenience store, she later shows up at school in ‘normal’ school attire: she no longer wears pants under her skirt and lets down her hair. TYPICALLY, this immediately leads to her becoming more attractive to other boys at school. When Miyagawa hears that his classmate confessed to her, he starts taking his distance from her, which results in a break from their weekly egg sandwich races. Still, the two stay in touch and bond over their shared memories and interactions. One night, Kana texts Miyagawa that she’s going back to school to fetch her ‘lucky charm’ that she forgot, and he ends up going with her. After sharing an exciting nightly adventure in the abandoned school building together, Kana crashes at Miyagawa’s place since she missed her last bus home. The next morning, Miyagawa personally makes egg sandwiches for them to eat together, which they do, outside on the way to her bus stop. Through this conversation, he reveals that it was never about the egg sandwich for him.
I thought it was really cute that they both clearly liked each other a lot, but still cringed about themselves so hard when they were alone, lol, that was such teenage behavior. The fact that Kana’s lucky charm was actually the label of the egg sandwich packaging that Miyagawa cheered her up with after the softball match was really sweet, as well.
I appreciated this story as a short little high school rivals-to-lovers romance, although they were never really ‘rivals’ from the start. Their interactions were super cute and I loved how they bonded over the egg sandwich and kept cheering each other up and helping each other out. The only thing that irked me was that Miyagawa almost kissed Kana while she was sleeping at his house. When she fell asleep after muttering that she wasn’t dating that one guy and she had someone else she liked, he somehow got the urge to kiss her and attempted to several times. Even though he kept stopping himself, I really didn’t like that that was the first thing that came to his mind after learning she was single. She hadn’t confirmed anything and also wasn’t in a position to consent, which to me is an immediate NO. I’m glad he held off, but the fact that he had to stop himself more than once didn’t sit right with me.
While I liked this story for what it was, I did feel like it lacked a certain depth that I did find in other episodes. Of course, I didn’t mind that not every story went as deep and emotional as the other, so I wouldn’t write it off as a flaw. The only thing is that, because it lacked depth, there also wasn’t too much additional meaning to be found in the non-diegetic inserts, in my opinion.
We basically just see the characters as they are, starting with Kana swinging a softball bat and running across the field. The only change I recognized was that at some point they were both pictured on a higher platform (maybe the school roof), and it started snowing. I felt like this was around the time that Miyagawa started distancing himself a bit from her, so it might have been symbolic of things ‘cooling down’ between them. When their love blooms at the end as they eat Miyagawa’s handmade egg sandwiches, they’re both shown looking up at the clear sky behind them, which is suddenly filled with balloons in all kinds of colors. I thought this was a very pretty sight, and it might have alluded to their mutual realization of the romantic feelings they had for each other.
This lack of depth also came back in the food metaphors: I feel like the role of the egg sandwich was really face-value in this episode: it was what they raced for and what linked them together, but there wasn’t really a deeper meaning to it that referred to their mental states or anything.
In terms of the color scheme, I actually wasn’t completely sure what it was supposed to be at first. I initially thought it was blue, until I saw the convience store clerk’s outfit. The colors in the previous episodes had been very bright and present, and in comparison teal fell a bit flat to me. It seemed like it came across more clearly in the environments and the lighting than in the characters’ outfits this time. On the other hand, it also gave off a feeling of something that wasn’t fully ripe yet, which was fitting for the young love between these two high schoolers. Same as with Gyudon, I liked that the colors became brighter and more vibrant as the characters get closer. They literally start at different sides of the school building, racing to the same spot for an egg sandwich, and end up eating them side by side. The scene where Kana sleeps over at Miyagawa’s house might have served as some sort of in-between point; they’ve reconnected but are still divided by misunderstandings in where their feelings lie.
All in all, while this may not have been my favorite episode in the anthology, it was still very sweet and the way these two characters connected was very unique. Not everything needs to be that deep, especially when you’re in high school, so I could appreciate it for what it was.
6. Cup Ramen
Color code: Blue
This episode focusses on two childhood friends, Nakamura Sho (played by Mizusawa Rintaro) and Onodera Komugi (played by Kawashima Umika). As kids, they lived next to each other and often hung out together on their neighboring balconies. Komugi was a few years older than Sho and acted as a supportive older sister to him. Whenever one of them was feeling down, they’d call in ‘Outside Ramen Time’ and have a cup of instant ramen outside together, which always contributed to the taste and filled them with new determination. Whilst Komugi supported Sho in his dream to become a manga artist, he supported her in her dream to become an idol.
Many years later, these two meet again on the porch of a publishing company that Sho is bringing his new manga work to. Komugi is working as a cleaner there and after the initial awkwardness, they decide to catch up. It’s clear from the start that things didn’t go as planned for Komugi: she keeps hiding her face from people in the street, seemingly more out of discomfort and embarrassment than celebrity anonymity. They end up in a karaoke room together, where they reminisce about their childhood. Unlike reconnections in other episodes, there are several signs of friction that can be identified here. Besides the fact that they’re both keeping up appearances because they’re embarrassed to admit not fulfilling their respective childhood dreams, there was another level of awkwardness that stood out to me. Firstly, the fact that Komugi refuses to have cup ramen with Sho in the karaoke room. Instead of immediately bonding over the food that linked them together, she pulls away with the excuse that they’re not outside, so it wouldn’t be the same, but it’s clear that that’s not the only reason. Secondly, I was pretty uncomfortable with the way Komugi immediately initiated physical intimacy with Sho. It was in reference to an instance from their childhood where Sho had almost touched her boobs, which despite being bad was justifiable by his immature curiosity in her as a slightly older girl. However, the fact that Komugi, upon reconnecting for the first time in years, immediately went: “Now that you’re an adult, wanna touch my boobs?” really rubbed me the wrong way. In my opinion, they could’ve done without that scene, because they never went back to that kind of intimacy afterwards, either.
I did like the conversation they had afterwards, on the park bench. They actually stayed up all night at the park while talking and having cup ramen together, which was wholesome in its own way. I liked how they both talked about their regrets of not being able to fulfill their childhood dreams and encouraged each other to not give up. I was kind of reminded of Umeboshi Onigiri in the way they stood on different sides in their experiences: while Komugi had a lot of regrets through her acquired experiences, Sho was too scared to take the first step, out of concern that he wouldn’t be good enough.
Komugi had briefly been part of an underground idol girl group called Cup Girls (kind of fitting for the cup ramen story). Even though the group itself wasn’t that popular, she somehow pulled the short end of the stick and ended up being the group’s least popular member, to the point of getting straighout ignored and ostracized. By the way, I found it a bit weird that, despite the fact that the group apparently wasn’t even that well-known, there were still so many people that recognized Komugi on the street. Maybe it was a bit exaggerated to show her paranoia, but I still wondered about that. Anyways, I just can’t believe these kinds of people. Saying you support a group but then openly ignoring specific members doesn’t make you a fan. Go support solo artists then, jeez. It was really hurtful what she went through, especially after she herself had been so motivated by idols as a kid. It’s a very common thing, though. I think by now we all know how harsh the celebrity life can truly be. Watching idol survival shows has given me a clear enough image of how much the job is romanticized. As pure as your intentions are, wanting to bring joy to other people, there’s so much to it that can completely break you as a person. I guess that’s why Sho’s validation of her at the end was so powerful. In their childhood flashback, Komugi mentioned that she wanted to become an idol because they brought her joy, hope, and courage. In hindsight, that’s exactly what she gave Sho: joy, hope, and the courage to pursue his dream of becoming a manga artist. I loved that they referred back to these things they’d told each as children and made them applicable again, even when things had changed in their lives. The episode ends with Sho finally mustering the courage to show his work to that publisher. While Komugi doesn’t going back to being an idol, she decides to stop hiding from people on the street and start speaking out to people she meets at work more, regaining her former vibrancy.
For some reason, this episode felt a bit shorter to me compared to the others. While the two main characters reconnect just as well, their reunion didn’t seem to lead to a continued contact afterwards, and we don’t actually see if they stay in touch. Still, it was wholesome in its own way and stood out for its big flashback that showed the main characters as kids, which none of the other ones did.
I also liked the variety in the non-diegetic inserts, because instead of bringing people physically together, this one ended with the characters’ respective imageries seeping into each other. Sho is shown standing on a rooftop, with pages of drawings floating through the air around him and falling down as he screams and even lies down on the ground in frustration and agony. Komugi is shown in idol attire, with her face painted in glitter although her expression is anything but ecstatic. Towards the end, at hearing Sho’s encouragements, Sho’s drawings start floating into Komugi’s sequences and she cries at seeing the portrait he drew of her.
Just as with Tamago Sando, it didn’t feel like the cup ramen had a deeper meaning than a symbol of a shared memory. Admittedly, it wasn’t just a childhood memory of time spent together, it was intrinsically linked to a time in which they were able to dream freely and carelessly, a time in which they supported each other and brought joy, courage and hope into each other’s lives. Maybe the fact that Sho was motivated by that employee at the publisher’s office eating the same cup ramen also related to the fact that he became able to find encouragement without Komugi’s help and was able to go his own way, even if that meant parting ways with her. I can appreciate it having been a brief reconnection between childhood friends that didn’t lead to anything solidifying between them, honestly.
7. Tsukimi Soba
Color code: Purple
As I mentioned in the Somen section, I had the feeling that Moe’s colleague Mitsume was different from the other supporting characters from the way she was featured. So yeah, when she came back in this episode, I was like: “I knew it!” I liked that Moe and Momokawa had a short cameo in this episode, as well.
This episode centers on a completely different character dynamic than we’ve seen so far: friends with benefits. Mitsume Shiori (played by Ishibashi Natsumi) and Hotta Makoto (played by Mizuma Ron) meet up every once in a while purely to have sex, no strings or feelings attached. Mitsume claims that she prefers this as it’s less complicated, and Hotta is fine with that. Apart from their hookups, they have one other habit to conclude their time spent together: they always go for a bowl of tsukimi soba, buckwheat noodles with green onions and a raw egg on top. This habit originated from the first time they met: Hotta spotted Mitsume at a train platform and spontaneously asked her out, to which she agreed, and he treated her to a bowl of tsukimi soba. He later reveals that he thought she looked beautiful but lonely, and there was no better remedy to loneliness than some warm food.
Still, no matter how much you try to keep things separate, spending so much intimate time together is bound to make you at least a little bit curious about the other person, and this also went for Mitsume and Hotta. It seems like especially Hotta couldn’t help but take note of specific habits and tendencies that Mitsume had, like the fact that she always ate the egg first and put the green onions aside. Thinking that she didn’t appreciate him prying, he always apologized whenever he pointed these things out, but it was pretty clear that he was watching her closely outside of their sexual encounters as well. When Mitsume is suddenly called back to her hometown because her father collapsed, Hotta finds the ground slip away from under his feet and can’t hide his true feelings for her any longer. As someone who used to travel around to try different kinds of tsukimi soba, he has now found himself so attached to her company that he doesn’t even want to eat by himself anymore.
In reality, Mitsume has been holding herself back as well, which is hard for her since she has a hard time controlling herself. While she can’t restrain herself in eating the egg first because she likes it so much, she has been holding back from eating the green onions out of fear that they’ll make her breath smell bad in front of Hotta, whom she’s also come to have feelings for.
As it happens, Mitsume used to have a boyfriend who died in a tragic accident three years earlier. After his death, she swore to never fall in love again, scared of the pain losing someone else would bring her. She was crying over this at the train station when Hotta first approached her. However, as their encounters went on, she still found herself falling for him, which scared her so much that she started to hold back more and more.
When Hotta asks to have one more bowl of tsukimi soba together before she leaves, both their true feelings come out. Since Mitsume would be forced to marry someone to take over her family’s shop, Hotta offers to marry her instead, which fatefully turns out to be a match made in heaven; her parents own a soba shop and he had been saving up to open one himself.
What makes this story interesting is that it’s the only one that doesn’t actually show just one night and one morning. Mitsume and Hotta spend multiple nights and mornings together, and therefore the buildup in their relationship is distinctly different from the rest. It also stood out to me that their non-diegetic inserts didn’t show too much varying imagery than what we already see in the actual story: them wildly going at it in a sultry, dim-lit, jungle-like environment, interspersed with individual shots of them sitting halfnaked on the edge of the bed. The only transition, I guess, is that when they come face to face with their true feelings. That’s when they start facing each other more directly in the inserts as well, hugging and sharing a more sincere-looking kiss. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be much more that the inserts add to their relationship, making their whole thing kind of one-dimensional. Of course it was interesting to see what their perspectives were and that there definitely was more to them, but it still didn’t go as deep as some other stories did.
Up to this point, it had felt like a while since the food element had carried a deeper metaphor, so I liked that they at least used the comparison of how Mitsume and Hotta ate their tsukimi soba, and how it added to their personalities. Hotta was the type to save his favorite ingredient for last, while Mitsume described herself as being too greedy to do so. As simple as an element it may have been, I liked that the aspect of Mitsume’s greed exceeded beyond that and ended up pertaining to her trying to control her feelings for Hotta as well.
8. Nikuman, or ‘Steamed Meat Bun’
Color code: Hot pink
While I mentioned the enigmatic convenience store clerk in my intro, I purposely didn’t mention him in my analyses of the other stories since I wanted to give him the shoutout he deserved in his own chapter. I got really excited when I saw he would be the protagonist of the final episode, because I’d finally get to hear him talk and know a bit more about him. The way his story ultimately tied together all the other episodes created a very fitting ending for the anthology as a whole, as well.
The final episode focusses on two co-workers, Shigematsu Jun (played by Aoki Yuzu) and Mitsushima Honoka (played by Kakei Miwako). As mentioned, Shigematsu appears throughout all the episodes, with the color of his uniform changing accordingly to each color scheme. He never says a word and has a penetrating stare, but he does help customers out in his own awkward way. At the start of this episode, he is joined on the night shift by a new part-timer, Mitsushima, who is encouraged by their manager to make sure Shigematsu becomes a bit more sociable. Apparently, his silent behavior has started freaking out customers and the store has been getting a lot of complaints since he has stopped greeting people as they come in. We see this in previous episodes as well – whenever a character comes in, there’s always a brief moment of awkward silence when they realize nobody is greeting them with the usual: “Irrasshaimase~”.
Through this story, we find out that Shigematsu did start out doing his best to appear more sociable, despite being made fun of by his fellow students for giving off a scary vibe. It’s been hard for him to try and find a job because of this, as well. When he started out at the convenience store, he did try to smile and talk to customers, but after a while he noticed how most people didn’t even look at him when they paid, and he stopped trying altogether.
Honestly, it broke my heart seeing his story. This poor guy. He tried so hard to change because he didn’t want to feel lonely, and then when he challenged himself to a customer service job to improve his skills, he ended up feeling even more invisible, to the point where he even started doubting his own existence. I think what this story did very well was show just how harmful it can be for employees to deal with customer-oriented work. The main thing I took away from all the part-time jobs I had was that I needed to be more thoughtful of what they were doing, but there are countless people who don’t even bat an eye at the person behind the counter, heck, who don’t even consider them as a human being. Seeing Shigematsu wither away through this occupational loneliness was really sad and it definitely struck a chord with me.
That’s why I found it so heartwarming when he and Mitsushima shared their stories. Mitsushima had visited the store before as a customer, initially also ignoring Shigematsu behind the counter because she was immersed in her own misfortune, but as soon as he mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation with her, she felt saved from her own doom thoughts. In fact, this interaction made such a big impact on her that she ended up applying for a job at the convenience store because she wanted to work with him, the person who’d saved her by just calling out to her with some small talk. People really underestimate just how much a few simple words can mean to someone.
Speaking of Mitsushima, I initially found this episode very hard to watch because the amount of harrassment she went through because of her chest was INSANE. Literally, what the fuck is wrong with people. From customers who just couldn’t fathom why it would be bad to tease an employee about her big boobs and even TOUCH them (these were women, by the way!) to the manager ogling her, to her classmates nicknaming her “meat buns”, to her friend ‘cheering her up’ after a breakup by saying: “But hey, you’ll find another guy in no time with that chest!” Seriously, it made me sick to my stomach. Hearing her try to relativize it by saying people meant it as a joke or a compliment and she didn’t want to make them feel bad was tough. She was such a lovely and bubbly person, and still people found ways to completely tear her down without even acknowledging how they made her feel. Seriously, let’s all just keep in mind that it’s only a joke when both parties are laughing.
All in all, I think this episode made me the most emotional, especially the part where Mitsushima urged Shigematsu to try and greet people again, and that she would confirm to him a hundred times that he existed and mattered. I felt so bad for him and related to him so much that seeing Mitsushima validate him like that just hit home. I loved how these two bonded so naturally, finishing the night shift together to eat some meat buns and have a wholesome heart to heart. Again, there wasn’t any kind of romantic tension between them, they just respected each other as fellow human beings and that in itself was so, so great. I loved how Mitsushima’s comment about how Shigematsu had probably saved loads of people unintentionally led to flashbacks of how he helped all the people from the previous episodes, including scenes that we hadn’t even seen before. How he saved an umeboshi onigiri for Murata, helped Lily find the honey, gave Tamako an encouraging nod after Ushio bought condoms (that was such a funny misunderstanding), stood between Komugi and some guys that were talking smack about her, gave Momokawa an extra plastic bag which he ended up needing when Moe threw up, gave Mitsume an unjudging nod after overhearing the word “sex friend”, and helped Miyagawa find the ingredients to make egg sandwiches after the premade ones were sold out. I loved that it ended with him finally greeting and helping a new customer, after which she personally thanked him, showing him that there were still some people that did appreciate him in his work.
I honestly felt like this story was intended to wrap everything together and show that even the most invisible person has a story of their own, and as such I didn’t actually pay as much attention to the non-diegetic inserts and the differences in the color scheme.
I thought that, just as with the egg sandwich, the nikuman were utilized in quite a face-value kind of way, specifically relating to Mitsushima as she had a personal connection to it. To still say something about the inserts: they first show Shigematsu standing in one of the isles of the convenience store with his eyes closed. When he stands up for Mitsushima, the lights start flickering around him in the rhythm of a heartbeat, and he opens his eyes. When Mitsushima opens up to him, they’re shown walking towards each other in the store, and the final image is of them together, with Mitsushima hugging him from behind as plants start growing through the shelves of the shop. I’d like to think this growth, in combination with the lights flickering as a heartbeat, symbolized these two finding back their will to ‘live’, as in, their will to move forward and try again, and that they found solace in each other, even just as work friends.
I thought this was a very moving and powerful episode to finish off the anthology with. It was cool to get a more in-depth look at Shigematsu and to appreciate him as an individual more. I had no idea his story would make me tear up the most, lol. But seriously, tying everything up like this and then ending it by referring to all the previous episodes one last time was really nice, it actually felt like a happy ending.
And with that, I’ve reached the end of my main analysis. I really appreciated each and every story for what it was, I loved the variety in the dynamics and the messages, and I enjoyed seeing the unique color schemes and inserted imagery that gave a bit more texture and context to all the characters and their respective mindsets. Some episodes hit me a bit harder than others, of course, some went less deep than others, but I liked that every single one was powerful in its own way. My personal rating would be as follows:
1. Nikuman
2. Somen
3. Gyudon
4. Umeboshi onigiri
5. Honey Toast
6. Tsukimi Soba
7. Tamago Sando
8. Cup Ramen
In terms of the color schemes, I was actually reminded of something I read the other day. There’s this theory going around about people who are single and feel like they can’t find the right person, which goes something along the lines of: “you could be the most beautiful shade of this and this color, but for someone who only likes a different color, it’s not going to matter.” I just thought it would be a nice interpretation to think of the color schemes in this series to signify that these people were meant for each other. Maybe these colors weren’t even there in real life, but they symbolized that these specific couples were meant to meet, as they were innately the same color or noticed the color of the other person because it was to their liking. I don’t know, that quote suddenly came to mind while I was watching this, and I thought it would be a cute interpretation for it.
Even though there were only eight main characters in this anthology, I’ve decided not to do a cast comments section for this review. The reason is that, funnily enough, I didn’t know ANY of the actors – which is uncommon in Japanese shows! – and I feel like my remarks wouldn’t go much further than a basic “they did great!” for each and every person. Instead, I’ll make a general comment, which is that this was possibly the most refreshing and genuine acting I’ve seen in a J-Drama in a long while. Everyone was so natural, and I loved how even the characters with darker emotional backstories didn’t become too cringe in their portrayal of it. Japanese dramas sometimes have a tendency to make heavy themes even more heavy through the way they’re acted out, but the acting in this series was incredibly sincere and realistic, from start to finish. I loved it.
As soon as I started watching the first episode, the cinematographic quality immediately jumped out to me. I’m really glad I got to watch this, and I appreciate it for exploring such varying relationship dynamics without shying away from more mature ones as well. Japanese dramas usually are very prude when it comes to showing physical intimacy, so seeing people actually have sex on screen (albeit not in too much detail, thank goodness) was very impressive to me. I love that this series normalized topics like friends with benefits and sexual harrassment, as well. I also think it shines a new light (and color) on the concept of being kind and thoughtful of others without judging people too much on their appearance and social status. Every single person has a story, a heart, a weakness. Only a lucky few will find someone that complements them in that one special way, but then it’s still no guarantee that they can stay together. The multi-layeredness of each character and the complexity of each situation added so much to every single story.
Needless to add, I also loved the utilization of food throughout this anthology. Besides using it as a way to create a bond between two people, the metaphors and associations that passed in review were all so clever and profound – they made me clap my hands together every single time. Truly, very good writing. What a charming series.
As much as I’m impressed with how well each story was told in the span of only twenty-five minutes each time, the short duration of it also inevitable led to storylines that could not be completely filled in. As appreciative as I was of every episode, I still found myself liking the ones with a bit more context and depth more than others, and sometimes wished for a bit more. Still, I really love it for what it is. It’s a one of a kind gem within the range of Japanese series, and I would definitely recommend it to anyone looking for something wholesome. My thanks go out to the original artist Okuyama Kenichi for creating these stories, and to the writers and screenwriters for this drama to visualize them so impactfully. They did an incredibly job with this.
And with that, I will conclude this review. May my streak of wholesome dramas continue, and may I be able to come back with a new review soon.
Bye-bee! x
You Are My Spring